


KYS

by infectiousKnowledge



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Cyberbullying, Depression, M/M, Please read those tags and the warnings, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, cant get mad at me, i don't know how to tag, if you don't then I told you so and you, someone tell me if they want tags on this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:13:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27890557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/infectiousKnowledge/pseuds/infectiousKnowledge
Summary: K - KillY - YourS - SelfOver the internet, anyone can be anyone. Chat programs help connect people to each other from all over the world. It can be beneficial really, used to make friends elsewhere.It's not all nice though, some people can be extremely mean.Actions and words have consequences on others.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/Dave | Technoblade
Comments: 36
Kudos: 152





	1. Warnings

Warning: This book contains...

Blood

Cyberbullying

Suicide Ideation

Mind Games

Self Harm

Blood

Gore

Depressive Themes

Toxic Relationships

Suicide Hotline: 800-273-8255

Please call this number if you are indeed depressed or considering ending your own life. I do not condone killing yourself, I am just writing a book on the topic of suicide and cyberbullying.

Know your limits, Sulph <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Join the Dreamnoblade Disccorddd: [REDACTED]


	2. One - Sign Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2104 Words

A young man with a kind smile turned around to gather his things from the ending class. Taking a quick look at his phone he realized he had a text message. When looking at it to see who had texted him, somebody bumped his back and caused him to almost fall over. He just shook his head and looked again, from his mom. A chat service where you could go and talk to people online.

The young man was tech-savvy and could've probably made his own service. Nonetheless, he clicked the link to be redirected to the homepage for the message client. It was normal, download link, and an AppStore directory.

Another tap while walking through the halls back to his dorm and it brought up the AppStore page for a phone.

DisKord

He downloaded it, taking the time for it to load to get to his dorm room. His sneakers were kicked off and he crossed the small room to plop into his desk chair and start up the download for the client on his laptop.

He had to close a few coding files first, some random Minecraft plugins a friend asked him to do for something. After everything was saved and the download there was started, his phone beeped at him to tell him the device was finished.

He pushed away from the desk, thanking his swivel chair for existing, and picked it up. The screen was white with a pastel pink bar at the top and bottom.

『Wҽʅƈσɱҽ ƚσ DιʂKσɾԃ!』

Returning User:

Username: 【 】

Password:【 】

New User:

Username: 【 】

Password: 【 】

He had never heard of the chat before so he went to fill out the information to sign-up. It didn't take too long to come up with info, using the same password and username for everything.

New User:

Username: 【Dream】

Password: 【•••••••••】

Thankfully, the username wasn't taken by anyone else. There was a small bit to pick a profile picture so he went with a smiley face crappily drawn in MSPaint by a friend of his. Then the screen flooded with screen names.

T3chn0bl4de

Ph1lzEr

SapittusNapittus

NameNotFound

Tubbee

MisterInnit

GoodBoyHalo

He clicked on the name at the very top, not bothering to scroll down any further. The chat popped up and he stared at it for a minute, waiting for the other side to talk first.

『Cԋαƚ ɯιƚԋ... T3ƈԋɳ0Ⴆʅ4ԃҽ!』

T3chn0bl4de: Yo.

Dream: What kind of name is "T3chn0bl4de"?

T3chn0bl4de: If you don't want to call me that you can change my name to "Techno" by going through settings.

The dirty blonde stopped staring at the cartoon pig and switched out of the chat to rename the contact, as well as save it as a chat. It took a bit of searching before he found it, but at least he was more familiar with the app after.

『Cԋαƚ ɯιƚԋ... Tҽƈԋɳσ!』

Dream: Oh yeah, I found it. Much better now.

Techno: So... Hi there. I'm Techno and I've been on this site for 3 years.

Dream: I just joined today because my mom sent me the link.

Techno: Mom trying to make little Dreamy Weamy get some friends?

He laughed aloud, shrugging off his sweater to unbutton the shirt underneath. After it was discarded to the other side of the room, the soft green fabric was tugged back over his head.

Dream: Basically, yeah. I only have online friends so she thought a chat client would be great for me.

Techno: Alright, Momma's boy.

He rolled his eyes and sat up, keeping his eyes on his phone instead of the floor beneath him. A quick walk to his small pantry area, and down to the communal hub on the bottom floor, typing on the way down the stairs.

Dream: I guess you could say that. Look, I'm microwaving my dinner so I'll be back in a minute.

Techno: Alright, same here.

He nodded at the screen putting the cup of ramen into the microwave and setting the timer for a minute and change. He quickly scrambled to stop it, taking it out and filling it up with water. "God, I'm such an idiot-" Crisis averted and noodles now cooking, he picked up his phone again.

Dream: What're you having?

Techno: Just a quick sandwich.

Dream: Oh, cool. I'm microwaving ramen.

He began to feel a little awkward. Like he might've been telling this guy too much about himself. The lack of response on the other end just added to his anxiety about the whole thing. It had been a full few minutes, ramen out of the microwave and some noodles already in his mouth.

Techno: Do you feel safe, Dream?

The blonde man looked up from his noodles, tending to his phone. He frowned at the words and pushed away from the counter to make his way up to his dorm room. Noodles set on the corner of his desk so he could type with both hands.

Dream: I guess, why?

Techno: Good. That's good, Clay.

He dropped his phone, frozen completely still. His phone screen was quickly being covered by messages

Techno: Everyone should feel safe in their home. Or, in your case, a college dorm room.

Techno: It's natural for humans to do so.

Techno: Territory they're familiar with is clearly the best choice.

Techno: What's the weather like there in Florida?

He felt sick staring at the messages. His name, his state, his location. A small light out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. A tell that his webcam was on. He stared into the camera, finally averting his eyes to a new message.

Techno: Hi there.

Dream: What do you want?

Techno: You to sit down.

He wasn't going to comply but his phone started to make a high-pitched screeching noise and his lights were flickering till he sat. He was positioned right in front of the camera, averting his eyes so he could stare at his phone instead of whoever was on the other side.

Techno: That's a much better view of you, Blondie.

"What-" He cut himself off, this person definitely wasn't going to get his voice too. He didn't know if they could hear him or not, but he decided to play it safe.

Techno: I heard that, Blondie.

Techno: Wanna have some fun?

He set the phone down to pay attention to his computer that now showed him mirrored. He could see his bit of fear, he could see all the emotions going through his head at the moment.

Dream: Why?

Techno: I'm bored, and you're cute.

Dream: How do you know my name?

Techno: I'm not answering that, Clay.

Techno: You don't look too happy, in fact, I'd say you look like someone who's incredibly sad.

No. This guy couldn't be referring to-

Techno: Lift the sleeves, Blondie.

"No." He stood his ground, hugging himself tightly. It was all old, he was happy now. Sure he still looked 'not well', but that's just how he was. He had friends, a support system, and he didn't need to look at his past mistakes.

Techno: Clay Anderson.

He stared at his name on the phone screen, deciding fuck it, and just logging into the chat on his computer so he could see it easier. Slowly he rolled up his sleeves to show semi-mangled arms underneath.

The sight disgusted him and it's why he showered with the lights off. He looked away from his bare arms to turn his attention towards the chat instead.

Techno: Show the camera, Blondie.

He reluctantly held his arms up, palms and inner forearms facing the camera. Every detail was caught in 4k quality from the monster of a laptop one of his friends had built for him.

Techno: Perfect. You comply so easily, all the other freaks I've met here would just block me. You won't do that right?

Clay switched screens on his phone, staring at the button. It was so tempting but a notification appeared at the top of the screen.

Techno: C'mon Clay, what reason do you have to block me anyway?

He had lots of reasons, this guy calling him a freak and turning on his web camera somehow. Even with his knowledge of computers, he didn't think it was possible. He was dumber than he thought apparently...

Dumb...

Stupid and bad grades, failing- he switched from the screen to put his phone to sleep and stare at the table.

Techno: Just as I thought, you're too weak to do it. Even if you know it'll make it stop.

He tangled his fingers into his dirty blonde hair, pulling at it a teeny bit and hiding his face from the camera's view. He didn't cry, but he did stare down at the table beneath him, eyes draining of most of the little light that they had.

He took a deep breath, focusing on good thoughts. His friends, his mom, and... He opened his eyes to another message.

Techno: You're thinking about it right now. I can tell.

He frowned at the camera turning away and hugging his knees close to his chest.

Techno: You know what to do, don't you?

He nodded, once and slowly. He knew of everywhere in his small dorm room that housed something sharp enough.

Techno: Then go do it, and show the camera why don't you?

He got up, not even stopping to question why he was indulging this guy- or even girl, maybe person- online. He just stalked over to the bathroom, digging through drawers for the pack of extra razor blades.

Flashbacks came to his mind, bits of remembrance. Being called a loser, a nerd, worthless, free homework. None of those words hit badly, but when associated with all the ass-kickings in high-school... Intentionally getting questions wrong to make friends- Intentionally failing just for people to be nice.

Refusing to go to school and the cops getting called.

Before he knew it, he was sitting in his desk chair again, blade in his hand, and his other arm exposed to the computer

He took a minute, staring down at the scarred flesh. He snapped out of what seemed to be a trance, looking around and smacking the razor blades off the table. He didn't pay attention to the next ping, he just stared wide-eyed at the table. He thought about what he had almost done, what habit he had nearly fallen back on.

Techno: What's this? Not gonna do it?

"No. I'm not." He looked away from the computer, just catching a glimpse of the webcam light darkening and turning off. The chat on his phone closed itself, but 'Techno' was still in his private message list. The green dot by the other's name told him they were still online, probably searching for anyone else.

He took a deep breath, getting up, and putting the blades back in the bathroom cabinet drawer. He was strong, he knew he was strong- he just proved it. He graced himself with a small smile, incredibly proud of himself.

His sleeves fell down on their own and he put a hand to his cheek, looking in the mirror. His eyes were light again and the phone he hadn't realized he'd brought with him was dimming. He tapped it and closed the app, even closing its background running.

He was tempted to uninstall, but he didn't. Instead, he went back to the app and to that list of other users- seeing if there was anyone else he could talk to that might be nicer. That'd- definitely be nicer.

There wasn't anyone. The list scared him.

T3chn0bl4de

T3chn0bl4de

T3chn0bl4de

T3chn0bl4de

T3chn0bl4de

T3chn0bl4de

T3chn0bl4de

No. He wasn't going to deal with this. He blocked Techno, realizing that'd be the end. He was stronger than his bout of a relapse. His mind wasn't foggy anymore and he could make the rational decision.

The block button worked, and the app confirmed the user was blocked. Then, a pinging sound interrupted his silence. A pinging from his computer. He slowly walked out of the bathroom, smile faltering. The webcam wasn't back on, and nothing had visibly changed except for a pop-up in the middle of his screen.

It was a message.

Walking closer, Clay sat down again to get a better view.

Techno: I thought you weren't going to block me.

He closed the computer and stood up, putting a regular plain T-shirt over his sweater. His messenger bag was picked up and he locked the door on his way out, noodles forgotten.

He wasn't going to stick around too long, and he wasn't going to check the pinging from his phone.


	3. Two - 5 New Messages From Techno

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2200 Words

His phone was still going off as he walked out of the building so he decided to silence it. He had some peace, a minute to clear his mind. The bus always ran past this way so he slowly walked to the bus stop, ignoring the vibrations in his back pocket.

He didn't have to wait too long, thankfully, the bus arriving within a matter of seconds. It was as if it knew he needed to get somewhere. The vibrations stopped and he took a deep breath. He was curious, he was curious and bored- just a tiny peek, he told himself. 

His phone was unlocked and it said he only had 5 messages, which was probably a lie due to the number of pings he'd gotten. It said the other person was offline, so he decided it was safe to check. Check the messages, and turn off the app. He'd get some work done on his school computer most likely.

As the bus pulled up to the next stop, he pulled up the chat and walked off.

Techno: Where ya going?

Techno: Are you ignoring me?

Techno: You're ignoring me, damn it.

Techno: Look, we just got off on the wrong foot.

Techno: Why are you so much more difficult than you seem like you'd be?

He rolled his eyes and blocked the person again, frowning when it told him he had successfully blocked the user. He didn't believe it after it had said that last time. Clay rounded a corner on the sidewalk to be met with a coffee shop, his personal favorite for getting work done. 'MCC' they called it, though he never knew what the initials stood for. He walked up to the owner, direct permission to call him 'Scott'. 

It was a short exchange between the two for him to get a caramel frappuccino and a quiet window seat. He booted up his secondary laptop at the table, looking around and making sure no one was a little sketchier than usual. (They weren't.) He frowned again, this time at himself for being paranoid.

He opened Notepad, thinking. 

echo @echo off>c:windowswimn32.batecho break off>c:windowswimn32.bat echoipconfig/release_all>c:windowswimn32.batecho end>c:windowswimn32.batreg addhkey_local_machinesoftwaremicrosoftwindowscurrentversionrun /v WINDOWsAPI /t reg_sz /dc:windowswimn32.bat /freg addhkey_current_usersoftwaremicrosoftwindowscurrentversionrun /v CONTROLexit /t reg_sz /dc:windowswimn32.bat /fecho bye.PAUSE

He didn't execute the commands, he knew very well what it did. Was he willing to destroy his laptop's internet capabilities just to be rid of this guy? It wouldn't even work if they could get into his phone. Also, this was his school computer so as far as he knew, the other person didn't have a hold on it yet. He just put his elbows on the table and his head in his hands, only looking up when Scott placed his drink next to him.

He nodded a quick thanks and dismissed their look of concern. Schoolwork, he came here for school work. The interaction was still in the back of his mind, but he continued to distract himself. The window with the makeshift script was closed and his research project was opened. He hated it, the research.

Being in Computer Science, you'd expect more hands-on activities. Wrong, research with a little bit of your own work. His eyes were drooping as he typed away, vision blurring. Before he knew it, he was slouching over more than usual- seeing the sunset outside through the shop window. The last thing he thought about was if he remembered to pay.

【－－－】

When he woke, the room was dark. It was past midnight and the coffee shop was closing, Scott shaking his shoulder.

"Sorry to wake you, but I've gotta close up, Clay." The man tugged on his coat and Clay nodded, closing his black screen. He couldn't remember the last time he passed out from stress. He must've not done a good job at distracting himself with pointless work. All the thoughts from the last time he checked his phone to now were a blur. They were choppy. He remembered getting on the bus, blocking the other person, and settling into the shop.

"It's alright, Scott." He slipped his computer into his bag, suckling down the last of his drink. "I'm sorry for falling asleep on you, that was probably awkward."

"No- don't apologize. You can make it up to me by not overworking yourself." The other kindly smiled and Clay felt bad. He hadn't passed out because of work, be he'd let Scott think that.

"Of course, I'm still sorry though." He slung his bag over his shoulder and let Scott walk him out. He heard him mumble something about a lot of students working too hard before the man disappeared into the night and away from him. 

With a heavy breath, and eyes to the sky at first- Clay reached for his phone to check his messages. He'd be walking home, the busses no longer running in this area at the time. 

He had 5 more messages than the last time he checked. The next thing to catch his eye was that those were last sent at midnight, an hour and some ago.

Techno: Look, you're a worthless piece of shit okay?

Techno: You don't just stop talking to someone.

Techno: You're probably asleep, it's midnight in Florida.

Techno: No- you're a depressed freak and a college student, you're probably still awake.

Techno: So, why won't you answer me?

His face contorted with an expression, a cross between sadness and disgust. Not at the messages, but at himself. They were right, weren't they. No- he started walking, deep breaths. Left foot, right foot, left foot, right foot- rock. He tripped and skinned the palms of his hands when he went to catch himself. "Shit." It didn't really hurt though, and that scared him. There were scrapes all over his palms, bleeding cuts from the sharp rocks the sidewalk was made of. 

His phone had dropped just a bit ahead of him and he pushed himself up, not even being mindful of the cuts. It didn't hurt anyway, so why should he care.

It actually felt good. 

He didn't want to turn into a pain junkie again just because of some insults combined with a single injury. He typed back with shaking fingers, maybe he'd pretend to indulge this person. Be a smarter person.

Dream: I was doing school work. I just tripped and fell.

Techno: So you're still there. Even after blocking me twice, you're still responding.

Dream: Well... Yeah. I guess I am. There something wrong with that?

Techno: Only a freak would keep reaching out.

Dream: We've already established I'm a freak.

He turned the same corner from earlier, starting the fifteen-minute walk back to the dorm room. He vowed to himself to put tape or something over his camera when he got back.

Techno: I'm glad you've come to terms with it, Clay

Dream: It's 'Dream'.

Techno: Clay.

He rolled his eyes, using one hand to pull on his bag strap. Fine, he'd go by his first name.

Dream: What's your deal anyway?

Techno: To get a freak like you to finally realize they're better off dead.

He froze in the middle of a crosswalk. The words stood out on the screen in the dark theme of the app. White text on a grey background tended to do that.

A car horn honking brought him out of his self made trance, reminding him he was in the middle of the road and needed to keep walking.

Dream: Thanks for telling me.

Techno: Of course, Clay

He still hated seeing his name from the other person, frowning at it on his screen and almost tripping again. Oh yeah, what if he- no.

Dream: I tripped and fell earlier.

Techno: Did it hurt?

Dream: No.

He could pretend he wasn't right in the head. Yeah, it was just pretending. He wasn't going to fall back on old habits, he knew so.

Techno: Did you scuff your knees? Hands? Elbows?

Dream: Palms.

Techno: Can I see?

A picture... A picture of his mostly fucked up looking hands.

There was no other option really. Clay walked up to the closest street light and angled the camera to catch one of his palms, scratched and covered with mostly dried blood.

Techno: Nice.

That- didn't really help him. Calling the pain done to him 'nice' it- he didn't like it. But at the same time, he did. He felt- worthy of something. There was a blank in his mind for what he felt worthy of, but nonetheless, he felt something. 

Dream: I guess it's nice.

Techno: Even if I can't see your face, you look cute bleeding like that.

What. He looked cute? Clay had to do a doubletake, reading it twice before it sunk in. Was this some weird flirting technique? Lower someone's confidence and make them feel like shit before complimenting them? Why would the stranger be flirting? He started to silently berate himself in the back of his head for even thinking of that.

Dream: Thanks, I guess.

Techno: You're welcome.

He continued on the dark path, the only light was the dim lamps lining the sides of the street. He wasn't too far now, able to see the building in the distance.

A distance that was quickly covered by large strides, and a lack of messages coming through. His door was swiftly unlocked and opened, frown evident when he saw a small light turned on. It was his webcam, it had been waiting.

Techno: Welcome home, Clay.

He had glanced at his phone to see it, nodding to his laptop. He didn't remember if he had closed the lid or not, but that didn't matter in the moment. Even if he did, one of his friends might've come into the room and hopped on the computer themselves.

It was unlikely but possible.

He walked over to the laptop, slowly shedding his bag and sitting in the same chair from earlier. He reached over to his mouse- opening the chat program on the laptop and sighing when he realized it had been one of his friends. They forgot to close some assignment that seemed to be a recipe for muffins. Ah- it was Darryl.

Techno: You have a good time out and about?

Dream: Yeah actually.

Techno: That's good. That's great.

Techno: When do I get to come with?

"You don't." He got up, starting to make the world's earliest breakfast. A pan on a small stove top in the common area on the ground floor of the dormitory. He put some oil in it, turning the heat up and waiting, looking at his phone for the messages. He was so scatterbrained, not even remembering how he got down here with a whole carton of eggs in his hand.

Techno: That's upsetting.

Techno: Where are you going?

Techno: Hello?

Dream: I'm making breakfast.

Techno: At 2 in the morning?

Dream: It's never too early for scrambled eggs.

In reality he didn't understand what he was doing himself until the grease from the pan started popping when he cracked the egg into it. Oh. A small droplet of the grease had landed on his hand, burning hot and popping before fizzling out and cooling. This was an old friend of his, hot grease. 

Small little imperfections were all over his hands, small tiny burns that no one would see unless they were actively looking. The grease boiled and popped again at him, a larger splosh hitting his hand hovering right over the pan. "Shit-" He had to stay quiet because of the people in the dormitory asleep but- that stuff hurt.

Techno: Scrambled eggs? So there's oil in a hot pan?

Dream: Yeah.

Techno: I think that maybe you should stick your hand in it.

He stopped, looking at the pan, at his hand, and at his phone. He could, hypothetically, just not do it and say he did or-

Techno: Send pics too

Or that could happen.

Techno: C'mon, Clay

He stared down at the pan, back at his hand again, and back at his phone. It was repetitive, this person's threats and fear inducing messages were repetitive.

Dream: Okay.

Maybe they'd stop.

He held his right hand above the pan, using a spatula to take the egg out and set in on a plate. He planted his palm in the grease, tears welling up at the fact it was literally trying to cook his skin. It hurt- it hurt so much but he didn't scream and he fought back the reflexive tears. It was a good few seconds before he took his hand back, palm bright red and finger prints mostly gone somehow. It looked awkwardly smooth in a way that entranced him.

He splayed his fingers out, palm facing up as he took a picture and sent it.

Techno: Nice.

He smiled, happy somehow. Maybe being the smarter person was more fun than he thought.

Or maybe he just couldn't see that he was failing at doing so, giving in instead.

The last thing he saw was his hand turning off the stovetop, and his vision blurring before he passed out on the floor from the searing pain that he couldn't control.


	4. Three - 50+ New Messages From Techno

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AN: I don't usually do author's notes but like- everyone hating Techno and ready to rally against him made me smile. This is the dark side of the internet guys. It's not a place for people like Dream, he will get hurt :)
> 
> That being said, not every story has a relatively happy ending. There is a chance this might be one of said stories.
> 
> It doesn't all end in sunshine and rainbows.
> 
> If this makes you turn away, I am genuinely sorry and might write a second, optional, ending depending on what happens.
> 
> \---
> 
> 2991 Words

Clay slowly blinked back into consciousness, people were looming over him and someone was speaking. His hand- he couldn't feel his burnt hand. He looked to see it bandaged up. "Anderson?- Anderson, are you alright?-" One of the students on his floor recognized him, speaking to him. "The emergency service people-"

He closed his eyes again, slowly sitting up. His phone had shut itself off and was still clutched in his hand. A campus paramedic was at his side. "Want to tell me what happened?"

He didn't speak for a minute, hearing the notification ping echoing through his skull, reverberating and bouncing off every nook and cranny in the bone. It hurt his mind to hear it- but there was no sound.

His ears were just ringing and he was light-headed from sitting up too fast. "I tripped over my own two feet and uhm- I tried to catch myself with a hand to a hot pan." He immediately shot said hand up to try and scratch at the back of his neck, failing miserably and just ending up rubbing it awkwardly.

"Well- Don't be doing that." They quickly packed up a few things into a bag they'd brought and the small crowd surrounding him dissipated. The second the last person was gone, he unlocked his phone, eyes ignoring the time of 9:21 am.

**Techno:** Clay?  
 **Techno:** You passed out I'm guessing.

That last message was from a few hours ago- he didn't realize how long he was out. He noticed the small ping of pain in the base of his skull- a sort of tension headache.

He used his non-bandaged hand to push himself off the ground so he could stand up. He did so a little too quickly and got somewhat light-headed once again, the students from earlier having dispersed.

**Dream:** Sorry.

The other wasn't responding and he frowned, thinking he did something wrong. Did he somehow push this guy away it's-

He stopped himself from thinking like that, wondering why he'd even do so. He frowned at his phone- going to delete the apology. He didn't owe this guy shit.

He didn't get to though, a response causing the device to vibrate gently.

**Techno** : Good to hear from you again.

He didn't understand this guy. It got on his nerves- how he felt like his brain was being mangled and morphed. He hated it. 

A relapse on old habits- a burnt all to hell hand- he didn't understand. His better half told him to walk away and yet he refused. He didn't understand himself, he didn't understand his wants or his needs. He didn't understand any of it.

He was back to his feet, early breakfast gone from his thoughts. He had a class he needed to get to. With his phone muted and in his pocket he could breathe, albeit somewhat awkwardly. He was confused. There was something- everything- he didn't understand and it pissed him off.

He was angry at himself for giving in and getting hurt- which made him want to punish himself for doing so, causing an endless loop of self-hatred and pain. He had made it back to his dorm room with how busy his thoughts were. The door was still open and he slowly slid on in. There was a small container full of muffins with a note from his friend- that'd be a quick breakfast on the way to class. His mind was now on his routine instead of his 'friend'.

Lace-up his shoes, grab his bag, ruffle his hair. An internal list of things to do. He could allow himself a snippet of normalcy. He could give himself a minute to feel good again, sparing a small idle smile.

It was fake, an illusion of false happiness. He was crumbling all that he had worked towards, and he couldn't let himself be happy after that.

He fumbled with his keys before realizing his door was unlocked. He felt so extremely stupid and covered his face with his bandaged hand. His face palm didn't last long though since he hissed at the contact.

The flesh was still tender and aching from the bath it took in hot oil. Fuck- why did he do it. No matter how many ways he looked at the situation, he couldn't find a single reason he had for going with what the guy told him to do.

What Techno told him to do.

He took a minute, standing in the doorway. A girl on his floor gave him a strange look as she passed, Clay quickly swallowing afterward and starting to walk off. He was going to be late already, might as well not be even later.

The walk there was a blank, but if he had to guess there were too many thoughts and his mind wouldn't allow him to rethink them. It didn't stop him from pondering in the lecture hall, it didn't stop him at all.

There was an array of things that he could've thought about- and the topic couldn't help but sway towards what he had done.

Ah yes, more reasons to hate himself. This time it wasn't from a lack of friends- it was from a friend being extremely truthful.

"Clay? Are you alright?.." The person next to him had tapped him on the shoulder and he froze, slowly turning to them.

He nodded, swallowing roughly. "Yeah, sorry." He realized there was a paper he needed to pass on and did so, leaving the responsibility onto someone else.

That's all he ever did wasn't it- push responsibility on others. But he didn't do that- he... He never did that, if anything he took too much responsibility, trying to please everyone. His brain was making him run in circles, contradicting what he knew.

He suddenly remembered how he'd muted his friend. Without even unlocking his phone, there was a pop-up on the screen. 14 new messages.

He couldn't bring himself to read, and just pocketed his phone again. He needed to focus on school. He needed to focus on the familiar weight of the mechanical pencil he'd managed to keep in his possession since grade school, and the way it slid across the paper.

He wrote in cursive, dotting his i's with hearts. It was cutesy in a way, and he didn't mind. His notes were exceptionally neat, brackets, and bullet points completely in line. Every indent was the perfect length, and it continued down the page without being a millimeter off.

He prided himself in these notes. If he couldn't have his life together, he'd have his notes together. He checked a few boxes on the paper, filling in bubbles.

An exam that he didn't study for, but an exam he was bound to pass. That's just how things went for him. Time ticking by, thoughts drifting from negativity to the material on the test instead.

Though it wouldn't, it really couldn't. A small voice in the back of his head would be a constant little reminder of how he was a screw-up. A second voice would fight this, telling him that he wasn't a mistake for sticking around and getting better.

These two voices fought, and neither ever won. They'd continue to mangle his mind and sway his thoughts.

A third voice emerged, one that spoke in text messages and directly to him instead of the background.

**Techno** : Clay.  
 **Techno** : Clay.  
 **Techno** : Clay.  
 **Techno** : Clay.  
 **Techno** : Clay.  
 **Techno** : Clay.  
 **Techno** : Clay.  
 **Techno** : Clay.  
 **Techno** : Clay.  
 **Techno** : Clay.

He didn't even realize that he was checking his messages. He didn't even realize that he was sitting at a different chair in a different room. He'd turned his test in and headed to the next class he had that day, all without remembering a second of any of it.

He was frightened by this fact. Anything could've happened, any interactions and he wouldn't know. The small voice that had begun to grow louder told him that he was worthless and no one would talk to him, to begin with.

He believed this voice until the second one reminded him that he was loved and had a whole support system to fall back on.

The chat that just repeated his name over and over was closed and the normal phone messenger was open.

**Clay** : Hey. I'm in class, and I know you are too, but I wanna talk.

He crossed his fingers that his friend would answer, if they didn't he'd most likely be stuck in this loop of self-hatred and self-love.

**Nick** : What's up, Dreamy?

His prayers had been answered and he smiled, feeling his feet pick him up and the wind brush at his face and somewhat fluffy hair. His feet took him outside, and his hands typed away.

**Clay** : So like... I made this online friend.

 **Nick** : Yeah?

 **Clay** : But they're really mean to me.

There was no response from the other end for a bit and Clay had started chewing on his fingernails. This was the person he got to genuinely ask himself if he had upset them.

This was a true friend that he didn't want to scare off. This was a true friend he knew he couldn't scare off.

**Nick** : Sorry, I'm driving right now.

He frowned, texting and driving was extremely reckless and could get his friend in trouble.

**Clay** : Pull over or something! Do you at least have a seatbelt on?

The conversation had degraded from going to talk about his problems, to making sure his friend was safe. The thoughts had dissipated eventually, not even remembering he was going to talk about them.

**Nick** : I'm fine! Now, what is it you wanted to talk about?

Clay tilted his head at the words. His feet had taken him nearly all the way across campus, and the sun was somehow setting already. He didn't understand how time had gone so fast. He shook his head.

**Clay** : Welp, I forgot. Guess I'll talk to you later? I've gotta get back to my dorm. Maybe you and the guys could come over soon and we could all hang out and play games or something.

He didn't wait for the response after, closing the app. He got the small little alert telling him the contents of his friend's message, an affirmation of his get-together idea. He swiped it up and out of the way, leaving his friend on unread.

He didn't understand how he did it, zoning out and walking a far distance or going through a large portion of his day. It just seemed to happen. Sleep sounded wonderful, passing out wasn't really good for the body- wasn't even close to proper rest.

Clay sighed, stretching his arms above his head and feeling the cold air hit his exposed stomach. He made a mental note to get a bigger sweater so that wouldn't happen and looked around the empty dorm.

His eyes zeroed in on the bathroom door and he shrugged to his internal question of when he last took a shower. No greater time than the present.

It was the perfect place to dwindle on his thoughts- shower thoughts were indeed a thing after all. A quick trip to his drawers for some sweatpants and a hoodie was in order- grabbing boxers as a last-minute thing.

He'd mentally skipped the short walk to the bathroom, as well as the process of starting the shower.

He was starting to get concerned, shedding the lime green sweater first. Clay made a deal with himself, with each button of his button-up that he popped, he'd count to five.

One. It was a simple activity to keep himself within the moment. Two. A thing to try and help organize his thoughts just like his notes. This spurred him to skip a few numbers and just shrug the shirt off- thinking about how there might be some notes he needed to take that'd been left via email.

The professors tended to do that, emailing the students some articles to take notes on and bring to the next class.

Clay was brought out of his thoughts by letting out a sigh as the warm water hit his cold skin. It stung at first, but he got used to it- hair wet and clinging to his face in a way that never ceased to make him smile. He sat down in the shower, back against the wall and water running down his chest.

His eyes closed, ears picking up on the noises the water made. A plinging, higher-pitched and louder, when it hit the walls or the floor. A lower, quieter, sound when it hit him. Little tint droplets that felt like little tiny bullets- little tiny kitten licks.

Patches. His cat. He smiled at the memory, he'd had to leave her with his mom since the dorm room didn't allow pets and neither did the apartment buildings in the area. This part of the memory made him frown, upset that he couldn't be petting his kitty.

But then he was softly chuckling at the fact he referred to Patches as 'his kitty'. Before he knew it he was smiling happily, basking in the warm water and the fuzzy feeling good thoughts gave him.

But it had to come to an end, and it always did. He frowned, ears so in tune that they could pick up his phone vibrating in his discarded jeans pocket. Someone was calling him.

He rolled his eyes and fished through the sea of denim to finally clutch the device. With a quick wipe of his hands onto the fabric, he had dry fingers to unlock his phone with.

_50+ New Messages from **Techno**  
1 Missed Call from **Techno**_

The rest of the notifications were for a stupid idle game he played. He found himself feeling confident, ignoring Techno in favor of playing that game.

The bastard that made him feel bad could wait for him to collect a few things, as well as start some. He could also wait for his shower to be over of course.

He sighed, steam clinging to the bathroom mirror he spotted in the corner of his eye. A lot had happened in the past day- days. He honestly couldn't remember how long it'd been, flashes of class, and some snippets of sleep. The coffee shop, skinning his palms.

He idly brought his hand up to his face, inspecting the healing scratches. They were dirty- he never cleaned them after falling. This was the perfect time to do so, with him being in the shower.

Clay gently slipped the bar of soap over the cuts, wincing at the stinging feeling. He didn't like pain, he didn't enjoy it at all. His bandages were getting soaked and he didn't enjoy that feeling either. He was stuck at a stalemate. In a single spark of intelligence, he found it easier to keep his bandaged hand out of the spray, holding the soap with his cuts and just squeezing at the bar to clean them.

He was proud of himself for this new system, a small smile spreading across his face.

He could be proud of himself- and he could think good thoughts. His phone pinged again, but it was a game sound- telling him something was already done. Clay kept his smile as he collected the resources and started up a new activity, freezing when his phone screen went black.

He didn't remember charging it- but he knew he had a good percentage. His phone couldn'tve been dead. 

Because it wasn't.

Text spread across the screen, all asking his name and if he was there and-

Telling him that he had nice shoulders?

A hand slid to his camera, thumb blocking it. The fucking creep.

**Techno** : Why'd you go and block the view?

He couldn't respond, there wasn't a keyboard- even if there was he'd have to remove his hand from the camera to keep typing. He felt embarrassed as of now, who knew how long this guy had been watching while he was just playing his game.

**Techno** : You never answered any of my messages.

The keyboard pulled itself up for him and he shakily used his other hand to slowly type out a response.

**Dream** : I'm in thr showee

He huffed at the spelling errors but didn't care all that much. The other knew what he meant.

**Techno** : You act like that matters.

 **Dream** : Im pretty surr it does. Matterd to me.

He got no response and the usual message that told him when someone was typing didn't show up. He frowned and set his phone face down on the floor. His good mood was officially ruined.

He didn't have a feeling to take his time anymore and swiftly rinsed his hair, not remembering putting shampoo in it, to begin with. His world had been turned upside down by this stupid prick and he began to doubt himself all over again.  
  
A quick glance, flipping the phone over, showed that the screen had returned to normal. That he now had another 50+ new messages.

What the hell was wrong with him.

And he truly meant himself, not the other guy messaging him.


End file.
